Hammer that Horrible nail
by bigedwards
Summary: He guessed it was ironic, him becoming Dr Horrible's secretary. Then again, he was sort of hazy on the actual definition of irony, so...  eventual Hammer/Horrible slash, T for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Dr Horrible or any of the characters in his delightful universe!**_

_**Yeah! I'm really excited about this fic! It's going to be **__**multi-chaptered**__** (no idea how many), though it is not a sequel to Best Laid Plans.**_

_**Warnings: Eventual slash, because Dr Horrible and Captain Hammer need a happy ending! Language, probably violence, who knows what my twisted brain will come up with (nothing graphic though, yuck)**_

_**Please please please please review and enjoy!**_

•

Eventually, the money runs out.

Eventually, the psychiatrist tells him that if he won't pay for his sessions, she can't see him anymore.

Eventually, the bills pile up and the repo man sneaks onto his property at night and takes back Captain Hammer's hummer, which, by the way, Captain Hammer doesn't even think is legal (the man also steals the ex-hero's futon, which Hammer _knows_ is illegal, but the people at the law firm don't believe him when he calls).

Eventually, he has to shop at a dollar store (a dollar store with, like, _gross poor people and stuff_) to buy food and at a good will for clothes.

Eventually, or rather, presently, however, Hammer drags himself out of the rat-hole apartment he's leased and begins looking for a job.

Unfortunately for him, dedicating his life to fighting crime has left him with a rather lacking resume.

Since Captain Hammer does not think he can seriously record his previous employers as "pe-pole in dangers" (his spelling mistakes, as Captain Hammer had never been partial to English, or any other subject in school, for that matter), he decides the best course of action is to make things up.

Except, Hammer is a bit too stupid for even this, so when the woman at the employment agency sees his file (paperwork filled out in crayon, mind you), she naturally balks at his assertion that he was the bearded woman in a traveling circus _40 years ago_.

He'd thought it had seemed like such a _good _idea at the time, too.

•

Basically, that's how Captain Hammer comes to be lounging outside a coffee shop at 3 in the afternoon.

(He doesn't actually have enough money to buy anything, but he quite enjoys the smells wafting through the open door and the hum of activity. He's been rather lonely of late.)

Not long ago, Hammer thinks bitterly, he would marched right into the shop, sneered down his nose at all the simpletons drinking _tea, _winked at a few adoring fans, and proceed to order his usual Venti Iced Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha espresso with extra cream and sprinkles.

Not anymore, because now he's stuck, illegally loitering and smelling not-great because his shower is on the fritz. It isn't fair, he pouts.

Captain Hammer rests his head in his gloved (he had to sell his leather pair, so now he wears bright blue rubber gloves, the kind housewives used when scrubbing the kitchen sink) hands and sighs dramatically.

The root of his problems lie with poopyheaded Horrible, he thinks.

_He'd_ been at the tippy top of the popular and awesome pyramid (like one of those creepy wrapped up people in the place with all the sand) until the doctor had finally grown a pair and up and killed Hammer's lady. That was _majorly_ not cool, bro.

Besides, what had _he_ ever done to the villain anyway?

A bell rings as a customer exits the shop, dropping his half-empty cup of coffee in the waste bin next to Hammer's head as he heads down the sidewalk.

Hammer smells the rich tasty tastefulness of the drink and his stomach rumbles, disgruntled and quite starving (the last thing he'd eaten was a large past-expiration-date bag of candy corn the night before, and Hammer is used to enjoying eight decent meals a day).

He wraps his fingers around the edge of the trash bin and pokes his head up over the rim to peer inside.

He can spot a used condom and a banana right off the bat, but it takes him a moment of searching to spy the coffee. It's wedged deep and Hammer realizes he's going to have to reach _all the way_ down into the bin to retrieve it, thus destroying any dignity he might have been able to salvage.

(Of course, he needn't have worried; there simply was no _dignified _way to eat out of the garbage, period.)

He's in the process of snaking his muscled arm into the waste basket when a flash of blue catches his eye.

It's, of course (knowing his luck), Killer Wave, the Evil League of Evil's resident stone-cold-fox, standing mere feet away. She's tacking up a sign from the stack under her arm to a telephone pole with a staple gun and looking radiant, as always, auburn hair glinting like…glinty things in the sunlight.

Captain Hammer attempts, at this point, to hide behind the trash can, but in his panic to avoid being seen, he forgets to remove his arm from _inside_ the bin before crouching down.

_(This_ results in said metal bin ripping itself out of the concrete and clattering on top of Hammer's broad back, making the most noise as it possibly can.)

Captain Hammer holds his breath for approximately 20 seconds before he runs out of patience and peeks through his fingers at where Killer Wave had previously been standing. She's gone, nothing but a slightly fluttering paper stuck to the pole to suggest she had ever been there at all.

Curiously piqued, Hammer rises to his feet as nonchalantly as he can muster. He flicks some of the dust sprayed by the breaking concrete off of his chest.

Two teenage girls make their way past him, silently eyeing the large hole-in-the-ground at his feet.

He nods at them. "Hey ladies" Captain Hammer says suavely. They shoot him acidic glares.

As soon as they pass, he sidles up to the wooden telephone pole and narrows his eyes at the paper.

"_Hello, puny citizens and troglodytes!_

_Are you a down on your luck, pathetic, and all-around loser? Are you another mindless cog craving toil in a well-oiled machine? Are you a smelly homeless person?_

_If you answered 'yes' to any of those questions, we want YOU to come work for us! The Evil League of Evil is experiencing a real shortage of secretaries right now, and we want employees we don't have to pay very much! _

_If you're stupid or desperate enough to offer your services, please come to our headquarters on the edge of town. There will be an extensive interviewing process and if you live, we'll offer you a job!_

_Have a super fantastic day, you worthless freaks!"_

Captain Hammer was not completely illiterate; he can at least brag that much, but it still takes him a few agonizing moments to sound out several of the words on the paper.

When he finishes, the first thing Captain Hammer thinks is that maybe, probably, most likely, the well wishing at the end of the flyer isn't sincere.

The second thing he thinks is that he answered yes to one of the questions.

The third thing he thinks as he's exiting the bus parked in front of The Evil League of Evil's headquarters, it that this is probably another one of his actually bad-ideas-that-seem-good-at-the-time.

•

_**Oooh la la! What's going to happen next? I know, you don't mwahahaha!**_

_**Review so I'll feel good about myself! **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**So so so sorry it took so long to update, but thanks for sticking with me! All your reviews are so sweet and lovely! *bakes you all a thousand pies* **_

_**Sort of a filler chapter (and not very well written at that), no Doctor Horrible yet, but be patient! He shall appear soon, I promise! **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Dr Horrible's Sing along Blog, even though I really wish I did.**_

The place is gray. Not a nice gray either, like the fur of the pet mouse Captain Hammer had for a brief period in his 20s, but a dull dark gray like the concrete in prisons. He thinks that might not bode well.

Hammer tugs at his suit jacket. He'd found the suit in a Salvation Army store and, since he'd _used_ (Hammer, at least, would not consider this a waste) his last dollar on a McDonalds ice cream cone, he'd resorted to stuffing the entire outfit under his shirt. _This_ hadn't fooled anyone, but the ominous cracking noise Captain Hammer made with his fists while strolling out the exit had warded off any potential employee heroics.

Not only is the place gray, it's also completely deserted and sparsely furnished. The lobby of the Evil League of Evil's headquarters is tiny and consists of a circular desk, two benches, and a ficus plant. Very long hallways branch off to the right and left.

Hammer's boots thump dully on the floor and, even though he's lost a bit of weight, the expensive chandelier above him jingles. Hammer peers to the right first, bending forward at the waist like a child afraid of what lay around the corner at night. The hallway seemed to extend on indefinitely, just floor and wall, no doorways to speak of.

Hammer whips his head to the left. This hallway is identical to the first. He straightens and brings a hand to his mouth, biting softly on his thumb nail.

It's a nervous habit, one he has abstained from since the third grade, when Bobby Greenberg saw his nails bitten to the quick and called him "chewy-chewy boy" (Bob had not been particularly imaginative) for the rest of the year.

"Uh", Hammers voice cracks, unused, and he clears his throat. When he speaks again it is several octaves lower, more like a man and less like a jumpy 12 year old girl.

"Is anybody here? Because, I'm like, ready for my interview…thing."

Silence greets him and he places his palms over his eyelid and presses, just hard enough to see splashes of white through the blackness.

Hammer needs this job. He's tired of having to buy the off-brand of coca pebbles and having to use the 5 napkins he swiped from jack in the box as a blanket. He's tired of having to rely on public transportation, where people were smelly and popped gum like teenagers and breathed with their mouths open. He's tired of the way people he used to know, from _before_, look away from him when he sees them on the street…like _they're_ embarrassed of _him_, of his…failures.

No. Hammer squares his jaw and stands a little bit straighter. No weasely little punk who got lucky _one_ time was going to force the man who got fondled by an entire high school cheerleading team and threw a four ton statue into the air (_at the same time_) into poverty.

He decides, rather obstinately, that he is not going to leave until he gets _at least_ enough money to buy some goddamn Spongebob shaped macaroni for dinner.

He ends up waiting an hour and a half.

During this time Hammer did 9 jumping jacks, tied and untied his shoes laces, tried to do a cartwheel, hurt his back, kicked one of the legs on the bench, broke the bench, carried the bench outside to the curb, smashed up the bench, returned to the lobby, did a push-up, whistled "Old MacDonald" four times, and pretended he was playing Dance-Dance Revolution with the cracks in the tile floor.

Finally, after those jam-packed ninety minutes, Captain Hammer hears a far-off rumble, like thunder before the coming storm. The floor begins to shudder, and briefly, Hammer's mind goes blank with abject terror. He's never been in an earthquake before and he tries to remember whether or not he should attempt to crawl under something heavy.

The chandelier, which happens to be hanging _right_ over his head, quivers, tinkling like ice in a glass.

He looks up and gulps, just as a steel barricade descends from the ceiling and blocks the front door. Hammer bites down a girlie shriek and backs up until he's pressed against the nearest wall.

(His hair is unwashed and it leaves little streaks of grease on the plaster, which, if Hammer had seen, would have made in inordinately hungry, because most of his favorite foods we soaked in the stuff).

The rumbling continues and beside him the ficus and its pot hop around, dirt sprinkling and scattering across the linoleum.

Suddenly, above the terrible racket, Hammer hears a tiny whirling, like one of those mini-fans (that worked for a good 5 minutes) he used to buy at the state fair. His eyes fix on the wall behind the steel desk. Two tiny nubs of metal have appeared, spaced several feet apart, poking out of the plaster. The whirling stutters painfully, like something has caught on the other sides of the wall. Then the plaster next to both nubs begins to pop away and the shining blades of fans break their way through.

Then the fans stop whirling.

Then the wall explodes.

Hammer sinks to the floor, arms up and shielding his face. Bits of debris rain down and clatter next to him, and dust settles on his suit like powdered sugar.

Captain Hammer coughs and peers out from under his bicep. The explosion has ripped a giant hole in the wall and dented the metal desk. A computer screen lies, cracked like an egg, on the floor near the undestroyed bench.

In the hole in the wall were the two fans. The fans were, naturally, attached to metal rods. These metal rods were attached to metal boxes and the metal boxes were attached to a giant robot.

Captain Hammer coughs again and stands up, leaning on the wall for support.

Hammer doesn't want to seem rude; someone told him once that during an interview it was generally best to act as least racist, sexist, or prejudiced as was humanly possible. Maybe, Hammer thinks hopefully, the Evil League of Evil has been renovating the headquarters and they simply _forgo_t to place a door behind the desk. Maybe, the robot would be conducting the interview and would instantly take a liking to Hammer's winning personality and charisma.

"Hello sir", Hammer says cheerfully.

The robot's red eyes scan the room for a moment, then fix on him, illuminating glow slicing through the gloom. Two red dots appear on Captain Hammer's chest, like the sights on a rifle.

"Cool, man" says Hammer, who, for a few blissful seconds, thinks the robot wants to play flashlight tag.

Except then the robot-_metal man_ says "You are trespassing. Prepare to die" and starts rolling towards him, blades whirling again.

Funny, in the half-light the metal almost looks…sharp.

The full gravity of the situation hits the ex-hero.

"Shitty", he says.

_**And then Bigedwards says, "REVIEEEEEEW, review, review, review!" **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**What is this? Another update? Wow, I am really on the ball lately! Yeah kickin' ass! \**_

_**Also, Doctor Horrible's first appearance, yay! And, by the way, I figure by the time this story is taking place the group of villains has expanded, so that's why I haven't used any from the actual Blog yet. But I will, oh, I will mwahhahaha! **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Horrible's sing along Blog.**_

* * *

Dr Horrible listens to heavy metal now.

Not because he particularly _likes_ it or anything, he just feels it's the kind of music psychotic evil overlords should listen to.

(Besides, the steady sound of screaming that emits from his office at all hours does wonders for his reputation. Not, of course, that his reputation _needs_ any help whatsoever anyway.)

Horrible has climbed the evil corporate ladder in giant leaps and bounds in the last couple of months. He attributes his success to the pleasant feeling (or, non-feeling) of numbness that's pervaded him since Penny's…_accident_.

He finds committing evil acts to be much easier now, like taking candy from a baby, if the baby was a city and the candy was buckets full of money.

Of course, as Bad Horse's second in command, he doesn't waste time on silly things like listening to his conscience or remembering to eat three meals a day or sleeping much (or at all).

At any rate, he has a nice office at Headquarters and he's moved into a fancy apartment and he owns three-piece suits that cost more than a year's worth of trips to the Laundromat.

In his free time, Dr Horrible likes to think about how well he's doing. Sometimes he even believes it.

* * *

The cut above Captain Hammer's left eyebrow has begun to bleed and drips fat drops of red on his cheek, like morbid rain. His suit is ripped all to hell and he's cracked a rib and his lip is fat and busted, but he got the job.

As it turned out, destroying the killer robot _was_ the interview process.

Captain Hammer actually thinks he prefers this method to squirming in an uncomfortable chair and answering questions from snooty company men. At least fighting showed off his positive attributes better than being asked how well he could handle teamwork in a business setting.

He's sitting in a cramped cubicle somewhere in the bowels of the Evil League of Evil's headquarters.

After managing to short circuit the robot with damp soil from the potted ficus, a pretty red-headed woman in a black pencil skirt had emerged from the exploded wall and said primly, "This way, Captain Hammer" . She then proceeded to march off down one of hallways without looking back. He'd scrambled to his feet and stumbled after her, the steady _click-clack_ of her high heels echoing in his ears.

For once, Hammer had stayed silent, and when she finally led him in to the cubicle he was lounging in now, she stuck out her hand and smiled. "Welcome to the team" she had said, before telling him someone would be with him shortly and disappearing down another hallway.

There isn't a clock in the cubicle, but Hammer is pretty sure it has been longer than "shortly." He's in the process of trying to see if he can catch drops of blood on his tongue like snowflakes when a leggy blonde appears in the doorway (leggy is an understatement. She has eight of them, _legs_, that is).

She's wearing all black and the front of her spandex features maroon webbing that stretches over her breasts and stomach and ends halfway down her…_thighs. _She smiles dazzlingly at him and Hammer sees a purple diamond set into her front bicuspid.

He swallows loudly and she hears it even over the hush of the AC. He sees something like dark satisfaction move behind her eyes and she takes a seat behind the desk in front of him. Hammer focuses on a bit of ceiling above her head so he won't have to see how she maneuvers her legs to accomplish this feat. She begins clacking loudly on the computer keys with her long nails.

"I'm Arachnid", she says without looking away from the screen. "I'll find you a villain who needs a secretary and then take you over to meet him. Okay?" Her voice drips with saccharine sweetness, though the effect is somewhat ruined by the bored look on her lovely face.

"Oh" he says, lamely. "That sounds fun. I like your sexy lady legs."

That last part slips out without any conscious thought on his part.

(Not that the large portion of Hammer's actions were typically carried through with much deliberation).

Her fingers freeze mid-tap on the key board and she slowly turns her head until her eyes fix on him. They are very deep and very black and for a moment Hammer thinks he knows how a fly feels when it's caught in a web.

Captain Hammer squirms under her gaze and then rushes to salvage the situation. "Well, I mean, because...I'm a leg guy. Not, you know, a boobs or butt guy...not that your...stuff is bad. Because it's not. Uh, yeah."

He further helps his cause by making lewd gestures in the air as he talks. He falls silent and drops his hands into his lap. The woman behind the desk has not moved an inch.

Then, suddenly, Arachnid tilts her head like a dog with a tick and then smiles (though it's more a vicious baring of teeth then an expression of mirth). Something drops in his stomach and Captain Hammer presses back against the plastic chair, knuckles white on the armrests.

She returns to the computer screen and continues her _tap-tap-tapping_.

He begins to wonder if maybe she doesn't like him.

A few tedious moments slip by, and abruptly Arachnid makes a noise low in her throat.

It sounds vaguely...triumphant.

She rises fluidly to her feet, her mass of legs twitching, and scuttles out from behind the desk. A few papers flutter off as she passes and Hammer watches them come to rest on the carpet, like feathers from a giant bird.

The villainess pauses in the doorway and says over her skinny shoulder, "Come with me, Captain Hammer. I've found your...perfect match." Emphasis on 'perfect'.

If Hammer had ever _actually_ paid attention in high school English Lit he _might_ have recognized that as foreshadowing.

Too bad he'd always been more interested thinking up thinly veiled sexual innuendos to hiss at the geeky boy he liked to beat up on in the band hallway.

* * *

_**End of Chapter 3! Yeah, I know. Yet ANOTHER filler chapter, but I promise next time Hammer and Horrible clash! Yay! Also, gee I wonder who that "geeky boy" was….;)**_

_**PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! PRETEND I'M STARVING AND REVIEWS ARE MY ONLY SOURCE OF FOOD!**_


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